These words no longer feel as though they belong to me.
I used to hold them in the palm of my hand, offering a full view to the crowd.
There used to be eagerness in my voice
as I laid out the hand I’d dealt;
A cheat to the rules of the game;
I enforced a personal ban
and offered my position to one who protests none
to a game twisted in favor of the one in control.
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Embracing the feeling of the devil’s fingertips
tracing a homicidal outline on my sensitive skin,
singing the flesh off the bone;
A guttural noise escapes
the bottom of my throat,
I welcome the pain;
find pleasure in the torture, even.
No questions or doubt;
They say home is where you belong,
and I have come prepared with luggage.
Expectant of the torment
I’ve been sentenced;
Warnings are unnecessary;
a precaution in the contract from the King.
This is where I’m destined to fall.
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Sweat lingers a while,
seeping through rumpled sheets
to remind you that you can still feel-
Fingers lingered longer than a butterfly
can flap its wings without falling tired;
A soft buzz, mistaken for the hummingbird;
an aggressive display of the effect of the sound
from the voice of a goddess wrapped in silk-
An airy whisper against your ears,
honey flows down your spine,
and you feel as though this is..
This is the gratification in the mind,
satisfaction to a body that responds
to the tickle of these melodies.
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Before I got lost searching for solidarity;
Every part of my being was in danger
of becoming a calculated response.
There was a never-ending fear of the metaphors
Breaking free from the caverns in my brain,
and being publicized to the world for relatability.
Instead of storing these writings of spiraling madness,
I let it flow wirelessly to whomever would bear the burden;
Regret is a toxin I’ve since become addicted,
feeding off the thoughts, no longer giving chance
to the voiceless;
And never did I think silence would ever be so comforting.
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Crushed by the weight of blame,
gravity becomes an enemy;
Guilt seeps through the cracks of torture;
Confusion of the wrongfully accused.
Tried and failed;
The jury too clueless to rule in favor.
A form of torture, this becomes,
questions now allegations
creating a fire that burns from the inside out.
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Rearranged my soul;
Adopted the personality to better
fit the morals of someone
Who’s seen the waves
deteriorate rock bottom
to no more than pebbles.
Found the courage
to wander into the trees,
no longer afraid
of spiders in their hammocks
and snakes in the brush.
Unequipped and unprepared,
I’ll never return to the road
that guided me towards
an unfinished compound sentence.
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I’m standing knee deep in years of waste
thrown atop the grave of an unknown soul.
Importance matters not to you
when the life is not relative.
He sleeps restless in a rotted coffin;
blanketed in the arms of roots
that the maggots use for transportation.
He will never be known, but the first trash
ever to lie within this landfill
that reeks of pollution and repressed memories.
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I lost my love
when I lost my voice;
Grieve the words still owned,
hidden away in the attic
where I used to create.
Before my hand gave way
to holding steady enough
for me to unlock its door.
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Without flinch; I peel skin from bone,
blind to wrongful consequences,
death becomes a peaceful treaty
to mind and soul;
The body contorts in ungodly ways,
writhing in the hand that would once
have braided frayed rope
for the sake of your happiness.
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A bloodied claw
dips hesitantly into the flow of the watercourse,
Once rapid; untouchable –
Now a chasm filled with gold.
Sticky sweet honey drips from the lips
of a bear who’s teeth have torn flesh
off the bones of the frail.
Temptation will always take priority over sensibility
when all you have known is to take –
He will never give second thought;
A single perspective;
Realization takes place of doubt
and nature portrays an animal of power
succumbed to a fate not unlike Midas and Narcissus.
————-
Check out my book, Penny Poetry, available on Amazon!
Marysa Writes 